


The Woman on the Roof

by Izzygirl



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Animal Transformation, Human Roach (The Witcher), M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Rating May Change, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzygirl/pseuds/Izzygirl
Summary: “Melitele tits it’s you.” Her voice was deep and raspy. Even from the ground he could tell she was tall. Her skin was deeply tan and long chestnut hair flew around her long face.“I’m sorry do I know you?” The woman pushed out a short sigh and shook her head.“You stupid bard. It’s me!"
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 86
Kudos: 311
Collections: Geraskier





	1. Chapter 1

_Save the Maudlin shit for my funeral._ He heard in the back of his head before launching into _The Baker’s Rise_. It was one of Marx’s but he switched the verses and the chord progression in the chorus. it always cheered him up knowing that his version was the one played throughout the continent. Still, a bard’s only as good as his last hit, he told his students and began _Her Sweet Kiss_.

It was a hit

Of course it was

Jaskier supposed that the looming Niffgaardian threat hung too heavily on the shoulders of the average tavern-goer for them to want any rousing tales of heroics. He should have been pleased, but something caught in his throat when he heard the applause. As always, he searched the corners for-

“Bard!” The innkeeper called. She was a tall woman on the wrong side of her youth. Marlena, he believed her name was. “Your tab.” She said.

“Ah yes,” He said tapping his fingers onto the bar, “I believe the entertainment’s drinks are on the house.”

“Well that was before we saw how much you drank.”

Shit.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the most remarkable teeth?” He leaned into the bar. He was off by a few inches and stumbled, gracefully, into a stool. She blinked slowly, maybe saying a prayer.

“I can’t say that I have.” She said after the long pause. Jaskier reaches for her hand as she eyed him wearily,

“They are very straight. Like tiny little shells Perhaps, _We could head for the coast_ . “Perhaps we could come to some kind of agreement.” She pulled her hand away but smiled.

Perhaps there’s hope, but then her father, a very large man came back in from the store room. He wasn’t Witcher large, but he was still large. He had very large hands.

“Bard! Where’s that Witcher friend of yours?” Jaskier stumbles to his feet

“He’s not my friend!”

Perhaps not.

Despite getting off on the wrong foot, an agreement was made. Jaskier would continue to perform at Marena and her father’s wonderful establishment until his debts were paid, in the meantime he could sleep in the stable. The cold air rushed over him as he exited the tavern. It would be winter soon. 

She would hardly be the worst patroness he’s ever had. Jaskier thought with half of a melody bouncing in his head. A few rhymes would be enough to get him into her good graces. He was sure of it. He wasn’t getting younger. Maybe he could give up his traveling days and settle down. They could turn the tavern into his own cabaret. She would manage the books and he could take care of the show. Their children would have his eyes and her teeth. Damn it Jaskier!

“Bard!”

Oh thank goodness, He thought jostled out of his day-night dream- delusion. He looked around but didn’t see anything.

“Bard!” the shout came again. It sounded like a woman’s voice, but he wasn’t sure.

“Up here!” He looked up to see a woman standing on the roof of the tavern. She jumped when she saw him and proceeded to climb down.

Jaskier dashed over to help this strange woman but she was already barreling towards him. Her head connected to the bottom of his neck knocking the wind and legs out from under him.

“Melitele's tits it’s you.” Her voice was deep and raspy. Even from the ground he could tell she was tall. Her skin was deeply tan and long chestnut hair flew around her long face.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” He asked. The woman pushed out a short sigh and shook her head.

“You stupid bard. It’s me, Roach.”

“I’m sorry what?”

Her back straightened, “Did you forget about me already?” She rolled back her rather broad shoulders. It was then Jaskier noticed the sword on her back. Suddenly sober he scrambles to his feet.

“What are you doing with that?”

“What do you mean what am I doing with that? I always carry Geralt’s sword. That’s my job.” She turns her head away and tries looking at him from the corner of her eye. Something about it clearly left her unsatisfied as she turned her head to the other side. She sighs loudly and shakes her head as Jaskier pulls them away from the middle of the road. It was late, but the taverns were closing. A steady stream of people were stumbling back from where they came, or at the very least away. As far as drunkards go, they seemed peaceful, but they were beginning to attract stares. With the added light from the windows, Jaskier saw she was dressed all in Black. Her trousers were leather and stretched impressively around the thighs. Her very impressive thighs.

“Bard!” She snaps. Her shirt was linen and familiar.

“You’re Roach.” He mutters. Roach looks up at the sky before looking at him again.

“Yes! Has it been long for humans? You don’t look any different... well you’re taller.”

“I’ll have you know,” Jaskier sputters, “That many would consider me a rather strapping man. Maybe now that Geralt and I are no longer traveling together-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to sigh.

“It doesn’t matter. What are you doing? Where’s Geralt?”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know. The town hired us to look into something that was killing chickens-”

“That’s a bit low isn’t it?”

“That’s what I said! We never make as much money when you’re not around.”

“Really?”

“Some shit-head alderman even tried saying that he wasn’t the real White Wolf. I mean, Hello! Wolf, white hair, White Wolf. I mean there’s Master Vesimir, but he’s more of a grey wolf really and he doesn’t even take contracts that much. Lambert says he’s retired.”

“Geralt said Witchers don’t retire.”

“Geralt says a lot of things.”

Jaskier snorts, “Yeah he’s a real chatterbox.”

“I know! Always talking, most of it bullshit. It’s nice that he is so quiet for you, so you can compose, but I guess you do all your talking in the inns.”

Despite what Valdo and the rest of the continent thought, Jaskier and his Wit- Geralt were not joined at the hip. After Cintra it would take weeks to convince him to accompany him to any venue larger than a tarven. Inside anyway. Outside festivals had different rules that Jaskier suspected Geralt of changed regularly. Jaskier had always figured these separations were filled with magic induced orgies and “blessed silence.”

“Right so the chickens! Geralt figured it was just a fox or something, but we did a job where this tree spirit was stealing some farmers sheep, so it’s not like we weren’t taking it seriously. I thought it was a skullhead but Geralt says they don’t exist and I said that he said the same thing about the dragon. Did you see the Dragon?” She turned to him again. Jaskier realized that despite her new form, following her was section nature. Jaskier shook his head.

“Wha-where are you going?” He asked.

“To the stable. Geralt always said that if we were ever to get separated I was to return to the stable and he would fetch me.”

“Then what were you doing on the roof?”

“What do you mean?”

“I - what? never mind.”

The awoken stable master eyed them weary but allowed them to spend the night there on the assurance that there would be, “no funny business.”

“No Sir, I take my business very seriously.”

“Hmm,” which if monosyllables were universal, roughly translated to, “sure.” He gestured to a corner of a loft and went back to his makeshift office to sleep.

“He won’t give you foals.” Roach said, leaning towards him. Jaskier crosses his arms.

“What are you talking about now?” She gestured to where the stable master left.

“You want to mate with him.” Jaskier flops down into the hay.

“I do not-for fuck sake Roach the chickens.” She sits down besides him.

“What about the chickens? Geralt gets off to do whatever it is that he does. There was a lot of yelling.”

“Human?”

“Maybe I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. There was a loud noise and…” Her voice trails off as she pulls her legs to her chest. Jaskier noticed a loose bit of straw stuck in her hair. He reaches over and-

“Oww what the hell!”

She bit him.

Of course.

“I’m sorry. I-” she begins.

“Don’t like being touched.”

She nods and flails her hands

“Not running is one of the first things Geralt teaches a Roach. How can I be his steed if I run at loud noises? Next thing I know I’m like this. Nothing looks right. Nothing smells right. Geralt is off somewhere without me. What if he gets another Roach?”

“Hey hey hey, the White Wolf will not be brought down by some barnyard nuisance. That would make a terrible ballad, and besides you're Roach! You’re his best friend in the whole wide world.”

“No, that’s you.” She sniffled.

“Don’t be ridiculous he can’t stand me.”

“If he couldn’t stand you he wouldn’t let you follow us. I don’t know if you noticed, but I walk much faster than you.” Jaskier snorts and flops onto his back.

“Please, I practically forced myself on him.”

“No one forces Geralt to do anything. He’s the strongest, most brave Witcher on the continent.”

“Have you considered the possibility that you have a biased estimation?”

“No, I meant plenty of other Witchers. Eskel is better with signs, but Geralt is still the best no matter what Scorpion says. He would give you much better foals than that stable master.”

“Both Geralt and the stable master are equally unable to give me foals.”

“That’s not true, there’s Ci- oh wait. Shit.”

“Ciri,” Jaskier sits up, “Princess Crillla. She’s alive?”

“No. I just made it up because I want you to come back.”

“He went back to her.” It was a question. 

She sighs and flops down beside him, “Don’t tell him I told you. She’s a secret.” Jaskier grins.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

She smiles.

“The White Wolf and the Lion cub. Now there’s a song.”

Roach reaches over and hits him on the stomach.

“Oww fuck, so… you want me to come back?”

“I want you to come back so Geralt stops moping. I don’t care either way.”

“Now I know that's wrong. Surely he’s not moping. He’s grieving for Yennefer. Everyone is saying she perished at Sodden Hill.”

Roach sighs.

“You really are an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Roach rolls over onto her side looking away from the bard, “I’m done talking to you. Why don’t you go and mate with that stable man?”

Jaskier scrambles to his feet, “You know what? I think I will!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Roach throws her arm over her head.

The second Jaskier stepped outside he regretted it. The famous Jaskier, master of the seven liberal arts, couldn’t win an argument with a horse. The fairer sex indeed. He had many lovers after the mountain. Men will always be interested in a traveling man, and for whatever reason, women seem drawn to a man with an air of malaise. Still his heart or his attention wasn’t in it. A pathetic little bard mourning a relationship that never existed. Fucking poets.

“You!” A too close voice called, “You’re The Witcher's Bard!” With that voice came three men with three swords- two swords one very large knife that was now pressed very close to his second most important appendage-limp? His neck. There was a knife pressed against his neck.

“I happen to have a name!” He sputtered, stepping back against the door. Now he was pinned against the door. Wonderful.

“That Witcher skipped town with our money.” The man holding the knife was thin and wirely, but Jaskier had enough experience being held at knifepoint to know that didn’t make much of a difference. His friends were larger but drunker.

“Technically he only skipped town with _half_ of your money. Not that he skipped town that is, but since you gentlemen seem to be taking this very seriously we should have our details in order.”

Jaskier tried to reach for the knife but the man bashed his head against his own, knocking him to the ground. Suddenly there was a gust of wind and a flash of white hair. The men started shouting, and before he knew it, they were running away.

Jaskier looked up to see two- _a_ white stallion standing in front of him. A white stallion with yellow eyes. He hates the question before it even comes out of his mouth,

“Geralt?”

The horse, fucking Geralt lets out of huff.

Of course, he thinks, and passes out.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt's nostrils flared as he approached. If he had been a Roach he would have left her alone, but if Geralt wanted to kill him he would have done it years ago. Still there’s no time like the present. He sighed,
> 
> “How are you doing Geralt?” 
> 
> He said nothing because he was a fucking horse.

“You’re on your own.” Jaskier said.

The morning came the way it always did. Jaskier did not waste time hoping last night was a dream. Even if he did, the white muzzle inches from his face would have quickly dispelled that fantasy.

He only flitched a little.

After a brief negotiation, Roach sat between Jaskier’s legs and granted him the honor of fixing her hair. She was always restless in the morning, but she seemed happy enough to recap the events of the previous night to her bard and master. She heard the commotion and was overjoyed to find that Geralt, in spite of his new condition, had come back from her. The aforementioned Witcher was looming and Jaskier hated to say it, majestic. Geralt told Jaskier once that most white horses just had grey hair that lightened with age. His coat was true white and fresh out of a virgin’s daydream. Jaskier already caught him once or twice gazing at his reflection in the trough.

“What do you mean we’re on our own?” Roach asked. She shook her head and was pleased with how her new braid flicked back and forth. Jaskier smiled even as it nearly smacked him in the face. If only he had some flowers-He stood up and slung his lute over his shoulder.

“As interesting as this situation is, the public taste for farce is waning. Surely this is just a magical misunderstanding. Go hunt down one of Geralt’s witchy friends, and have them set the issue straight.”

Roach stood up, “You’re leaving us? Again?” She leaned against Geralt. It was a gesture Jaskier seen Geralt do whenever he wanted to seem calmer than he was. Jaskier closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time anyone has been sad to see him leave. If it wasn’t a husband or a father chasing him from his lover’s beds, then it was his lovers that did the chasing. That was how he preferred it. Truly. He learned the hard way the trouble that came with breaking the hearts of young girls. No, keeping his sausage in a married woman’s pantry, as Geralt so tastefully put it, came with its own set of problems but a tearful goodbye was never one of them.

Geralt never said goodbye. When the leaves started to change, the Witcher would simply take a contract and not come back until spring. Jaskier was worried sick that first year until he heard some drankard talk about The White Wolf coming back into town with a monster's head.

“He took ‘is money and left without so much as a word to anyone.” He said to his companions in between Jaskier’s sets.

“Must be late getting back to his Cave,” His friend responded, “Don’t you know beasts hibernate in the winter?”

Jaskier skipped _Toss a Coin_ that night.

Once the snow thawed, Geralt found him in a tavern in Gulet.

“So?” he asked with his best roguish grin, “Three words or less.”

“You’re getting better.” Geralt counted off. _I was worried_. Jaskier wanted to say. He wanted to scream, but the anger never came. They sat in silence as the girl brought them ale and the worst bigos Jaskier ever had in his life. Geralt cleared his throat as the plates were being collected,

“Have you ever seen a griffin?” he asked, and the spring began anew.

That was how in all the years that followed. Geralt would leave before every winter without a goodbye, but every spring he would be the one that found him. The only year Geralt forgot him was the year with the Djinn, but Jaskier had spent most of that spring with the Countess de Steal. It’s not like he expected him to show up to court.

That would have been ridiculous.

The year before the dragon Geralt found him less than ten minutes after crossing The Western Gate.

Not that he counted.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips, “I’m not leaving. I owe the proprietress of a certain tavern several nights of performances.” Roach scrambled and started rummaging through their things.

“Here!” she said, shoving a bag of coins into his hands, “We took it from those men last night.”

“You robbed them?” Geralt was a giant magpie but between the three of them Roach was supposed to be the sensible one.

“No...it just fell out of their pockets when Geralt hit them.” She was restless, but she didn’t look bothered by the question.

“Ahh.”

Geralt huffed, catching Jaskier’s attention. Roach’s eyes darted between the two,

“Oh...you two need a moment.” She said slinging the saddlebags over her shoulders.

“No- you! Wait!” Jaskier called, but the door slammed behind her.

Fuck.

Geralt's nostrils flared as he approached. If he had been a Roach he would have left her alone, but if Geralt wanted to kill him he would have done it years ago. Still there’s no time like the present. He sighed,

“How are you doing Geralt?”

Geralt said nothing because he was a fucking horse.

“Do you even understand me?” He asked, running his hands through his hair. Geralt huffed.

“Alright, stomp your foot twice for yes and once for no.”

One- Two.

“Great….well hi. Well I hope you don’t mind Roach giving me your money. I had… I didn’t know you were here. Even if I did you- you don’t own the Continent. I can go where I please.”

Geralt's ears flicked back, and he hits the floor twice.

“Right. Well right now I want to go, so I’m going to go.” He turns to leave,

“Good-” Jaskier didn’t know enough about horses to know if horses could move this fast or if Geralt's abilities transferred to his new body. What he did know was that there was now a horse blocking his exit. Geralt's hoof hit the ground once.

A year's worth of furry lit as Jaskier put both hands out and shoved against the animal.

“Fuck you Geralt” He shouted. Geralt yielded to the blows allowing himself to be shoved out of the stables.

“I’m not some fucking kid anymore who is going to be lead around by his cock! I don’t need a muse! I’m my own fucking muse!”

People were staring.

Haven’t they seen a man fight a horse before?

“For fuck sake! I leave you two alone for a minute!” Roach appeared between the two of them. Geralt gently nudges her with his head.

“What did you do now?” she asked the Witcher softly. Geralt shakes his head.

“Well it was nice seeing you. Good luck!” Jaskier starts off. Roach easily catches up with him.

“Bard-” she starts.

“I’m not going anywhere with him.” He huffs.

“What about me?” She demands. Jaskier stops walking,

“Roach…” he starts. Roach looks down at her two feet. 

“Horses don’t hold grudges the way people do. I mean, I’m sure he did something stupid because he’s stupid, but he’s mine...and..." She kicks the dirt a little, "I know I don’t mean as much to him as he does to me. I’m not his first Roach or his last. I’m not your first Roach either, but most humans don’t even want to touch a Witcher’s steed let alone give me apples or braid dandelions in my mane. You,” she points, “Have never thrown rocks at me.”

“No.” Jaskier says. He looks over her shoulders and sees Geralt watching them, listening.

“I don’t know how to be a person, and I don’t want to learn. I know that they don’t like Witchers, and I know they don’t like people either, especially when they travel alone.” She spreads her arms, “I don’t know if Geralt's witchyness transferred over to his much more handsome form, but if we go off alone the worse case scenario is we get killed. The second worse case scenario is I get killed and Geralt ends up strapped to some noble bitch’s carriage with his tail cut and a stick of ginger up his ass.”

Jaskier laughs,

“You’re not helping your case.” Roach smiles.

“Will you help us?” she asks. Jaskier sighs.

“I’ll help you.” He says with a smile. Roach lights up and punches him on the shoulder.

“Great! It’ll be fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this comedy is this angst idk what the heck i'm doing. 
> 
> For those who don't know Gingering is a practice of shoving ginger up a horses anus/vulva to raise its tail and give it an extra spring in its step. The cutting the tail bit is something I remember reading about in Black Beauty in which people would cut a horses tail for aesthetic, and the horse was no longer able to swat at flies. I'm not an expert in either subject, but they both sound highly unpleasant. 
> 
> If someone is interesting in beta-ing this please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you liked this chapter! comments are love.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You two should kiss!

“Do you understand him?” Jaskier asks Roach. They were following Geralt on opposite sides as they retraced their steps. Every so often he would sniff the air or bend over to examine something on the ground.

“Geralt?” She asks, “Of course, he’s my human.” From behind, Jaskier can see Geralt's ears flick back.

“My _Witcher_.” Roach clarifies reaching forward and swatting at his flank. Geralt grunts and she smiles.

“Did you even ask him about what happened?”

“I mean...I don’t _understand_ understand but I understand. Besides what do you mean, _did I ask him?_ My job is to come, carry, and run.” She shoves him into Geralt,

“You ask him.” Jaskier stumbles back and dusts the white hairs off his trousers

“Listen the only thing I know about magic is what is in the balla-” Jaskier gasps, grabs Roach’s hands and drags her in front of Geralt.

‘You two should kiss!” He announces waving his hands between the two. They both let out a loud squeal at the thought.

“What?” Roach exclaims.

“Okay hear me out- Jaskier starts, but Geralt stomps his foot once, _No_. Jaskier turns to him,

“Do you have a better idea?” He snaps. Geralt and Roach both sigh,

“Bard-” Jaskier cuts her off,

“I am talking about removing the division between man and nature, and the unbreakable love of a witcher and his stead.” He sighs as they look back at him with identical blank expressions. “Listen cliches are cliches for a reason. Won’t you feel stupid if I end up being right?” Roach turns back to Geralt,

“I just,” she waves her hands, “touch him with my mouth?” Jaskier nods,

“That’s the general idea.” Roach and Geralt take a deep breath. She closes her eyes, leans forward, and presses her lips to his muzzle. She opens her eyes again and quickly looks around. Still a human. They exhale. Geralt huffs and she shoves his head away.

“Well, it was worth a shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something for the weekend. hope you enjoyed. comments are love.


	4. Chapter Four

Words that rhyme with horse: intercourse, divorce, hoarse. No that's too obvious, Jaskier thought to himself. They have been walking most of the day and it was getting dark. Traveling with Geralt the horse and Roach the human wasn’t that much different than traveling with Geralt the Witcher and Roach the horse. She was calmer now that they were moving. Jaskier had taken out his lute and absentmindedly began strumming.

_There's one rides very sagely on the road,_   
_Showing that he affects the gravest mode._   
_Another rides tantivy, or full trot,_   
_To show much gravity he matters not._

“We’re done for today,” Roach announces as they approach a clearing near the river. Geralt stopped his foot, but Roach, with dramatic air worthy of a bard, was already sprawled on a bed of moss.

“We’re done for today,” She repeats. Geralt grunts. He considers the grass for a moment and slowly bends his head to chew. Jaskier shrugs and begins laying out his bedroll and opening his rations. Roach rolls over to her side and stares at him.

“What?” He asks.

“You need to start a fire and take care of Geralt,” she sighs like it should be obvious.

“I need to?” He sputters.

“You’re the human. It's your job.”

“You did this morning!”

“You were busy at the tavern.”

In her defense, he probably should have taken care of it this morning as well. He had emerged from his dealings to Roach and Geralt locked in a battle of wills.

“Knock it off you brute!” Roach yelled followed by a loud huff.

“Someone has to carry the saddle and it might as well be you!” If went poorly, Jaskier thought, which they won’t, Roach could pursue a career in the bardic arts. She certainly had a talent for drumming up a crowd.

“Oh come on! You never heard me complaining!” There was a loud snort and followed by a gasp.

“You beastly man! Jaskier!”

Jaskier made his way to where Roach was attempting to saddle Geralt, but the Witcher refused to hold still.

“I assure you no one has any intentions of riding you,” She glanced at Jaskier, “at least in this form.”

Geralt grunted and stamped his foot. No.

“Why don’t we leave it here?” Jaskier suggested, “We can come back for it when this is over.” Geralt stomped his foot twice, yes.

“No,” Roach shook her head, “When this is over I want to go home. I want to see Scorpion and Ci-” Geralt shoved her with his head, “FIONA!” Her eyes shot around and the audience began to disperse. Geralt and Roach both look at Jaskier. He spreads his arms,

“So...who’s Scorpion?” Geralt turned and glared at Roach. She let out a familiar, “hmm.” Jaskier rolls his eyes.

“If you wear the saddle, I won't make you talk about it.”

Geralt sighed.

“Fine,” Jaskier says, standing up, “I’ll take care of him. Go, collect wood for the fire.” Roach grunts and gets up. She points her finger at the two of them,

“No fighting.” She waits for them both to nod before going off into the woods. Jaskier hummed a little as he began to remove the tack.

Although she put it on loosely, Roaches saddle was still too small for Geralt. There were little cuts across his back where the leather dug into the skin. He groaned a bit as Jaskier rubbed him down, but they quickly began to heal now that the offending garment was removed.

“It looks like your healing carried over,” He said, wiping the blood from his back. Geralt grunted and leaned into the touch. Jaskier smiled. People always wanted to know the strangest thing about traveling with a Witcher. If Geralt had been particularly unforthcoming, he would say Geralt would eat his meat raw, or that he would snatch birds from the sky whenever Jaskier needed a new quill. Which he did once because he forgot Jaskier’s birthday. Geralt forgot most of his birthdays, but that year he remembered he forgot. What Jaskier never mentioned, even in his songs, was the blood. Geralt’s blood to be more precise.

At first Jaskier assumed the blood he wiped from Geralt’s back belonged to whatever foul beast he had slain, but years of cleaning blood stains from silk taught him that few monsters shared the red blood found in humans...and Witchers. By the time he had made it into the bath, most of the wounds would be healed, but the blood would still cling to him like...a bard he supposed. He catches Geralt looking at him from the corner of his eye, and Jaskier realizes he had begun to sing “Brushy Brushy for the Horsey,” a favorite amongst Roaches.

“I hope you aren’t mad at her,” Jaskier says as he wipes down Geralt's legs, “for telling me about her.” Geralt grunts and he continues,

“They say she perished at the slaughter, but I didn’t believe it. I knew you wouldn’t let that happen, so if she had died that night that meant that you…” his voice trailed off. Geralt nudges him with his head and he smiles, “They say she looks like her mother.” Geralt stomps his foot twice, yes.

“I wanted- I had-” he turns to the river to get some water, but Geralt follows, knocking Jaskier into his large chest.

“No one was supposed to even know you were there. You were disguised.” He lets out a sharp laugh at Geralt’s huff and slaps a hand on his shoulders, “It was a perfectly good outfit. We matched. People would know we were together, and you have to admit it was the best food and drink either of us had in forever.” Geralt grunts. One of his affirmative ones.

“How was I supposed to know,” Jaskier continues, “I didn’t make you do anything. I-” Geralt stomps his foot twice, yes, and rests his head against Jaskier’s forehead. Jaskier sighs and closes his eyes.

“I-” he starts, but suddenly Geralt pulls his head back, and his ears begin to swivel, “What’s wrong?” He asks, but Geralt already took off into the woods. That’s when Jaskier hears it,

“GERALT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem taken from John Bunyan Upon The Horse and His Rider.
> 
> Please comment. They keep me going in these trying times. I promise I'm nice.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a misunderstanding

Luckily Jaskier didn’t have to run too far. He found Geralt who found Roach in a clearing She was kicking wildly at a young girl.

“Holy Shit Roach what are you doing?” Jaskier yells, pulling her off by the back of her shirt. The girl scrambles to get up, Geralt pins the girl down with his hoof.

“It’s the witch!” Roach yells gesturing to the ground. It was then Jaskier noticed that they were surrounded by the shriveled corpses of several chickens.

“It was an accident!” the girl screams thrashing about. He knew she must possess a great deal of power if she had been able to curse Geralt and Roach, but he had a hard time viewing her as a threat. Geralt must have felt the same way because he lifts his hoof. Jaskier offers her his hand,

‘What’s your name?” He asks, pulling her to her feet.

“Candy,” she says, dusting herself off. She couldn’t be more than sixteen maybe seventeen if Jaskier was being generous. She was pretty, not as pretty as a normal sorceress, but her clothes were too old and worn for her face to look so fair.

“Really?”

“Your name’s Jaskier,” Roach points out.

“It’s better than Roach.”

Irritated, Geralt stomps and lets out a loud grunt.

“I was working on a spell…” Candy begins, “When the Witcher attacked-”

Geralt huffed.

“When he appeared,” she corrects, “it startled me and I lost my direction.”

“What kind of spell-” Jaskier starts but he already knew the answer. A spell to turn someone into a woman. Not glamour but something more thorough. He knew several girls that paid many pretty coins for such spells. They were expensive and required multiple rounds before it was set, but they were all happy to pay the price. This Candy must be more powerful than the typical hedge witch.

“I tried to reverse it!” She exclaimed, “but the witcher got caught. Everything happened so quickly!” Geralt and Roach let out a simultaneous sigh.

“Foals,” she mutters before beginning to pace.

“Can you undo this?” Jaskier asks. Candy covers her face with hands and shakes her head.

“Yes-I maybe? I can turn her,” she gestures to Roach, “back into a horse, and I’m sure I can turn him into a person...just not a male person.” Roach head picks up at this last bit before meeting Geralt’s eyes. She holds his glance for a beat before her shoulders start to shake. The next thing they know she’s laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope its ok that I didn't tag trans-themes from the start. This was 89% the direction I was heading in but I was toying with other ideas. I'm sure my writing makes it very clear that i'm just here for a laugh. For real though please let me know if there are any critiques regarding Candy as a character. My goal was to make it as normal as possible because I frankly don't understand how a fantasy world can have magic AND gender, but I'm self aware enough to know I might have done poorly. As for critiques in other regards please be gentle. I still seaking a beta if anyone wants to hitch themselves to this very strange wagon.


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